


Daily Surprises

by WanderingTiff



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol (brief mention), Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food (mention), M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6272587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingTiff/pseuds/WanderingTiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco was stressed enough writing for a tabloid that he despised. But a rowdy musician moving in the apartment next door didn't make his situation any better in the slightest. And what started out as a feud about noise control became a practical joking competition that birthed a surprisingly amazing friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daily Surprises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bodtlings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodtlings/gifts).



> DISCLAIMER: This should be in the subcollection for JMGE New Year's Treats, but I forgot how to post in it until after I've posted it... Whoops ;;;
> 
> This is based off of Dani's/bodtlings' prompt, and I really loved this idea a lot! I hope you like it!

_Living in an apartment building with_ noise and pesky neighbors that interrupted Marco’s concentration was bad enough. But when a new neighbor moved into the apartment next door to him, then there was an entirely different ball game. He had lived here for almost two years, and now that someone finally decided to move next to him and be _such_ a nuisance to his concentration, he regretted moving in entirely.

He was a writer that always liked to work in silence. And that was going along relatively well. He’d grown accustomed to the regular background noise in the area, like crying children and an angry poodle down the hall. But his new neighbor was a rowdy musician.

Every day he would hear that blasted guitar, or even a set of drums. Sometimes he just heard his singing. But it was so loud that he only registered it as utter _noise._ Why did the landlord let him live here? Didn’t they have a noise-free policy? Well of course, everyone broke that rule, but he still liked to dream.

Speaking of the heinous distractions, he heard his neighbor playing his drums again. He was trying to type up an article on the computer, with his desk right up against the opposing wall. He’d covered his ears, but of course that did nothing. He’d closed his laptop and had enough, after two weeks of dealing with it. He started banging on the wall.

“Shut up in there!” he shouted and kept hitting the wall. “ _Shut up!”_

As if by some miracle, he _actually_ stopped. He felt so relieved to be back in his quiet place. He went to start typing again, but he heard loud rapping at his door that made him cringe.

“Great!” He got up and stormed to the door, flinging it wide open. “What?!”

“Hey, what’s the big idea?”

It was his neighbor. He didn’t think that the guy would actually come to give him a piece of his mind.

Marco frowned. “Your noise is a distraction! I am tired of hearing you playing your damn music when I am trying to work!”

“No one has complained about it before,” he said simply.

He stuttered on his words. “Well the next person that lives on this floor is in 13 D, but I’m sure the neighbors downstairs are irritated!”

He shook his head. “Nah. I think they moved out a few days ago.”

“What is wrong with these people?!” Marco was exasperated. “Well, I’m filing a complaint to the landlord!” He grabbed his phone and started dialing the number. “What’s your name?”

“Jean Kirschtein.”

As he was about to call his number he stiffened. Kirschtein. That was the last name of his landlord. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to—”

“He’s my uncle,” he said smugly.

As incredibly biased as it would be if the landlord let this noise complaint slide because the tenant was his nephew, he knew that he probably should expect it. He put the phone down. “Well, listen here, Jean Kirschtein. I live right here next to your apartment, and _I_ am bothered by the music while I’m trying to make a living! So if you just, find your own studio or something that will take this kind of noise, leave me alone so I can continue my work in peace!”

Jean listened, but he didn’t seem too interested at all. “Say uh, what’s your name?”

“Marco Bodt.”

“Okay, Marco Bodt, I’m gonna file a harassment complaint.” He winked as he smirked.

His eyes widened. “What? But I’m not harassing you! That’s not something to joke about!”

“Bye, Marco.” Jean walked into his own place and shut the door.

“Hey!” He quickly knocked. “Open up!” After a minute of trying, he finally gave up and went about his normal day. He was already so irritated by Jean upon first meeting him that he wished he would move out already.

\--

 _As it turned out, the harassment_ complaint thankfully was an empty threat, but Marco did not let it down that easily. He was a little more careful about his attempts to deal with the noise, though. But it seemed that each day he’d get louder and _louder_. It was _brutal_. He could barely work on anything while he was there, and he definitely didn’t want to be away from his apartment all the time just to write his articles. And all of them were too mediocre to begin with!

Maybe Marco could try and get even with him. After all, he’d spent several weeks interfering with his work. Why not teach him a lesson? After a couple days’ observation, he’d realized that Jean had left his apartment every day at eleven in the morning and returned at five. He had endless opportunities, since he himself stayed home rather frequently.

At half past ten, he stood outside of Jean’s door with a custard pie he bought at the local grocery store. He was so excited to pull his little prank and did his best to stay quiet. That’ll teach him to make him feel concerned about receiving a complaint. He made sure to stay still and checked his watch often.

When he heard Jean starting to head to the door, he mentally prepared himself. _This is it!_ He took a deep breath, his hand shaking while he held the pie. When the door _finally_ opened, he took his chance.

“Ah-hah!” Marco hurried and smushed the pie right in Jean’s face. He triumphantly laughed while he stepped back to watch his diabolical plan unfold.

However, Jean didn’t seem mad by this. He wasn’t even outraged. If anything, he was amused. He started to wipe off the custard with a chuckle, looking at Marco dead in the face.

“You’re a very bold person. I like that,” he sneered. “I didn’t think you had the balls.”

“Excuse me?” he gasped. “I do so! Very big ones, too! Thank you very much.”

“Whoa, whoa… too much information, pal,” he grimaced playfully. “Well, mark my words, Bodt, you will rue the day that you decided to mess with the great Jean Kirschtein.” It was all light-hearted, but Marco could tell that he was serious. “You will be sorry.” He went inside his apartment once more and shut the door.

Marco sputtered over his words. “Oh yeah? Well, I’d love to see you try!”

As he spoke, one of the older neighbors passed by with her poodle after walking him. She was staring at Marco peculiarly.

As a result, he blushed while he laughed nervously. “Good morning, Mrs. Nesbeth. And... Maurice.”

“Do I know you?” she hummed and occasionally shifted her attention from him to the pie on the floor. She then slowly walked off, leaving Marco still in a daze as he recollected himself and went back inside.

He was trying to work on his article still. He was supposed to have it up a couple days ago, but he still was stuck. The issue that his boss wanted him to tackle was something that was entirely out of his comfort zone. He never really liked sticking to one biased plot. His passion was to write creatively, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere in life with that kind of degree. At least, that was what he kept telling himself. But these tasteless articles that he was forced to write were starting to make him sick just thinking of writing them. There was absolutely no decent direction for him to go, and there was no point in trying to half-ass the topic without anyone reacting anally to it.

Trying to concentrate on it was simply out of the question, now that Jean lived next to him and created such a raucous, and sometimes even seemingly quiet places around town had too much background noise. But he wanted to at least try and do something productive today, even if it was only going to be a little bit. However, just as he was about to do an outline and look a few more websites for inspiration, he was completely cut off once again by Jean’s horrid noise. He’d suddenly heard an obnoxious guitar riff that made him jump out of his seat. He got up quickly and growled under his breath while staring at the wall.

“Will you knock it off and head out, already?!” He banged on the wall and groaned.

“I think I’m gonna stay a little while longer today!” Jean shouted between their barrier and continued to play. Nothing was going to stop him, now that he was keeping this up.

Digging his nails into his scalp, Marco surrendered and slumped on his futon while he waited for Jean to stop.

\--

 _The next day, Marco decided that_ the best option for him was to get out of the apartment and head to the library for the day. Maybe he will actually have absolute silence that he’d desired most, and he knew he had to get at least something productive done. He’d already received a couple disgruntled e-mails about how poorly written his latest article was; not like that was the first time he apparently wrote a bad one that he thought was exceptional at the time. But he couldn’t help it! He hated writing for gossip, but a job’s a job. He had to follow the orders of the editor.

He started getting ready, and the bus was heading over this way in about ten minutes, He’d still have some time once he would get out the door. He had his computer and notebooks in an over-shoulder bag and was dressed relatively decent. He didn’t want to look as disheveled as he felt about his work in public, after all. This could also give him time to relax now that he wouldn’t have to hear Jean’s constant background noise. That was an entire relief within itself.

He started to head out the door, making sure to pre-lock some of the locks on his way out. But once he stepped out, he was hit by an icy flash.

His breath was taken away. Icy cold water was thrown all over him, quickly chilling him to the bone in the already freezing hallway. And the first thing that was on his mind was his expensive computer that he was worried would be effected by the water. He quickly put the bag down and shivered, and as he did he could hear the laughter that was echoing throughout the hall. His blood boiled hot enough to already start warming him up.

“Jean Kirschtein!” He glared and shivered. “Are you crazy?! You don’t just throw water all over a person when they’re walking out the door!” His teeth chattered and he put his bag inside his apartment.

“Oh yeah?” Jean chuckled. “Says the guy that threw a custard pie in my face as soon as I’d walked out of my apartment.”

“W-why you...!” he groaned exasperatedly and stormed back inside. He hurried to check if his laptop was okay. His notebooks thankfully received most of the damage. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost his computer. His entire life was on there!

Even if it was damaged from the sudden splash, he knew that he would’ve made Jean pay every penny for it. He probably could afford it with that musician job he had.

“This is war,” he muttered while drying himself off. “He’s so gonna pay for this.”

\--

 _The pranks between them both remained_ relatively minor. It strictly stayed outside of their apartments, and they even were able to make it a competition. Sometimes, one of them would wake up earlier than the other to try and pull something over-the-top off to mess up the other’s day. And there are other times when the prank would be so small but would still make a world of a difference.

Jean thought the most pathetic prank that Marco had ever pulled on him was the time that he’d cut up his newspaper and left pieces of it scattered all over the outside of his door. Like he ever even read the newspaper. It was just a real pain in the ass to clean up.

And for Marco, the cheapest one Jean had ever done was when he’d managed to get Mrs. Nesbeth’s poodle to leave a little “present” on his doormat. He could smell the mess from his kitchen, and he was able to easily clean it up by throwing the mat out entirely and just buying a new one.

All of this had managed to go from a head-to-head feud to a full-fledged game within the spirit of fun. Neither of them could tell if this was meant to be a good or bad sign, but they both embraced it and kept it up without showing any signs of it ending.

One morning, Jean decided that it would be a great idea to replace Marco’s new doormat with a different one completely covered in blue paint. And Marco actually fell for it! He’d watched while his door was opened ajar, and he could see the footprints that he was leaving behind. He couldn’t help but laugh, and he knew that their landlord was going to have a field day when he would see this mess.

It wasn’t until Marco turned around half-way down the hall when he’d seen the mess that he was trailing behind him. He was wide-eyed and trying to get the paint off of the soles of his shoes with his fist. And that was just making an even bigger mess on himself when he’d accidentally gotten it on his shirt. He was fuming as he looked towards Jean’s apartment, seeing that he’d quickly shut the door when he was noticed.

“I’m saying that this is your fault!” he called.

“Well, it was your feet that created the samba training mat, not me!”

“You’re such a child.” Marco went back over to his door and tried to dispose of the soiled mat. “And I want my new doormat back! That cost me thirty bucks, Jean.”

“Thirty bucks for a doormat?” That was all Marco had heard from inside, along with uncontrolled laughter.

Marco muttered under his breath and went inside to clean the drying paint off of the hardwood floor. “This better come off, Jean!”

This prank had almost gotten them both caught with their schemes. And Marco definitely tried to get even with him. With his turn, he’d graduated from newspapers and pie to offering to take Mrs. Nesbeth’s poodle out for a walk and planning to outright unleash Maurice inside of Jean’s apartment. He had to be very sneaky with this one. He’d tried to contain his laughter and knocked on his door, gently urging for the poodle to stay quiet.

“Who is it?” He could hear Jean call after he’d stopped practicing on his guitar.

Marco cleared his throat. “Urgent delivery for Jean Kirschtein?” He’d tried disguising his voice while he waited. He held onto the dog’s leash and was ready for Jean to answer the door.

He could hear him unlocking the door from the other side, and his heart was pounding with the usual excitement he felt every time he knew that this next prank was going to be the one to top it all off. The door opened, and he was ready to let go of Maurice’s leash, but then...

The stickiness from the bucket of paint made Marco cringe upon impact. He had quickly been foiled. And when he looked down at the poodle, he saw that some of the paint got splashed onto him too. He was suddenly _mortified._ How was he supposed to bring him back to Mrs. Nesbeth looking like _this_?

“Jean!” he gasped. “He isn’t even my pet, what am I supposed to do?!”

Jean for once looked as worried as Marco was. “Maybe... we should try and keep this between ourselves. And not drag other people and animals into it. This was a rocky idea from the get-go. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Marco started to wipe paint away from his eyes.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll take him to get groomed, and I’ll just tell Mrs. Nesbeth that he’d gotten dirty during his walk. Sound good?”

He was a little surprised, but he eagerly nodded. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds perfect. Thank you.”

Jean took the leash from him and let Maurice inside his apartment. “But uh... before you go, I should give you this.”

Not even a minute later, he grabbed a cardboard box and lifted it above their heads, a bunch of feathers raining down on top of his head.

“You might wanna clean yourself off now,” Jean winked. “Bye.” He then shut the door on Marco.

As disgruntled as he was about his plan being foiled, Marco was relieved that Jean at least had his back. That was one instance that he could rely on to see that there was still some good within his neighbor.

Even if it was only a tiny fraction of good within him.

\--

 _Marco must have spent two hours_ in the shower trying to wash all of the paint and feathers off. And he still needed almost a half hour to completely clean off all off the excess. At least his hide was saved. Mrs. Nesbeth had given him a message thanking him for Maurice’s walk and having him groomed, even though Jean was the one that made it all possible. They both agreed that the whole paint incident was going to remain a secret.

“I should just work on my next article...” He gave himself a pep-talk while pulling up the draft. His boss had given him a draft on the “harmful” effects that young adult actors had on the teenaged demographic. And the entire basis he had to stick to for it was total garbage. “I don’t wanna write this.”

He didn’t have to. Jean was already distracting him with his music to keep his mind off of it momentarily. He looked over at the wall and for once was relieved that his train of thought had left the station. Instead of banging on the wall like normal, he gingerly knocked.

“Thanks for grooming the poodle,” he called. But he was quickly drowned out over the music. “I said, thanks for grooming the poodle!” Raising his voice seemed to get his attention.

After Jean stopped playing, he responded. “You’re just lucky I didn’t tell her the real reason why he had to be groomed.”

“Oooo, you are so evil!” he teased while he heard him start up again. That gave him an idea. He continued to yell through the hollow wall. “Hey, what is your favorite color?”

There was a pause, and Jean spoke while he was still playing. “Oh, it’s a beautiful shade called aqua-nunya fucking business!”

Marco couldn’t help but laugh. “It sounds like its shade is very similar to fusch-it.”

“Very creative, Marco,” he chuckled and played louder. “Mr. Bodt, if you’re trying to seduce me with your colorful language, I’m afraid that your methods hit _way_ below the bar.

“You think way too highly of yourself, you pig,” he snorted.

“Look who’s talking!”

Marco rolled his eyes and started to shout louder over the music. “You know, you can’t keep me silenced forever, Jean!”

Jean just started to increase his own volume to drown him out. He was starting to get so loud that Marco could feel some of the furniture vibrate in the apartment. But he was very persistent.

“I will throw out my voice before I quit!” he screamed, but he barely got louder than the music. He could hear a rasp growing in his voice now that he’d kept this up.

This little feud didn’t go on for much longer. Soon there were loud knocks right outside of both their doors that made them stop. It seemed like their entire floor was outside, and there was an angry commotion.

“Keep it down in there!” one neighbor bellowed.

“My kids are trying to sleep!”

“Knock it off in there, or we will report you!”

This continued for several minutes, and after they both desperately apologized to the neighbors, they finally left to go back to sleep. Once alone in the hall, the couple looked at each other and laughed.

“That was priceless,” Jean chuckled.

“Hey, whatever happened to our ‘no dragging other people into our pranks’ rule?”

“I know,” he nodded. “But that wasn’t really a prank, was it? It was just a feud. I didn’t say anything about feuds.”

Marco grinned. “Oh, you devil.”

They both shook hands before going back into their apartments. Just as Marco was getting settled to right his article, he heard a knock on the other side of the wall.

“G’nite, Bodt!”

Marco laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Good night, Jean,” he called.

For the first time in several weeks, it was quiet for the rest of the night. And Marco completed the worst article that he ever had to write.

\--

 _Still within the spirit of fun,_ Jean was ready for Marco to get out of his apartment for another prank. He knew that he had to wait outside at least until after nine in the morning, and he was ready with another bucket of water. He’d stood out there well after nine, and it was starting to get a little concerning now that almost a half hour had passed. He kept having to check the time to make sure that it wasn’t him just feeling like it was taking too long for Marco to get out. He definitely wasn’t leaving his apartment.

“Maybe he’s planning to pull a prank on me,” he insisted and then went back inside. It was not the first time that he’d done this, after all.

He even waited until eleven o’clock exactly before he tried getting out of his apartment again. But when he even tried to painfully lengthen the time it took just to get out the door, that didn’t even get a response. Now he was growing even more worried. A morning without a single prank was not normal. He tried reassuring himself that maybe Marco was planning something over the top for later, so he had that thought on his mind throughout his day.

When he returned in the evening, he was extremely disappointed that nothing was waiting right outside of his door. Even when he tried making it known that he’d returned from his day out on the town, there was not a single sound coming from the other apartment. He knew that something was definitely wrong.

Jean had never been in Marco’s apartment, and he didn’t mind that this was going to be his first time trying to come over for a visit. Well, he’d rather come in for something a little more uplifting, but that was beside the point. He knocked on the door.

“Hey, Marco? It’s me, Jean. You okay in there?”

He waited for a response, but there was none that he really knew of. He tried knocking again.

“Marco, open up. I’m worried that I haven’t gotten a single pie in my face today.”

He tried making light of the situation, but after ten more seconds of waiting, there was still silence.

“Marco, c’mon.” He knocked on the door again, louder this time. “Answer me, at least. You’re starting to scare me.”

“Go away.”

Finally, there was a sign of life.

“Jesus Christ, Marco. You scared me half to death!” he frowned. “This is probably the worst prank you’ve ever pulled. You win.” He raised his arms up to surrender.

There was silence again.

“Seriously, can I come in?” he asked. “I’m not gonna pull a counterattack this time. I think you’ve won the battle today.”

He was impatient from waiting too long for a response. He heard him unlocking the door, and when he slowly opened it, Jean could see that he really hadn’t been out of his apartment at all. Probably not since yesterday.

He looked like a wreck, with his five o’clock shadow still spread on his face and his disheveled hair sticking out all over the place. Even his eyes looked worn out, red, and puffy after what seemed to be a rough day of on-and-off crying.

“You look like hell,” Jean grimaced. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” Marco mumbled.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” he insisted and crossed his arms.

He sighed heavily. “I lost my job.”

Jean bit his lip. Of course, he expected Marco to tell him, but he didn’t think it was that serious. “I’m sorry, dude. Do you need like... a stiff drink? Coffee? …Juice?”

“I think the liquor I was saving for a special occasion filled in the void quite nicely.” Marco’s voice was low and raspy.

He was worried that Marco might be too drunk. “Do you see a twin next to me, or something?”

“My alcohol tolerance is really low,” he frowned. “I only had a couple shots. Nothing to make me plastered.”

Jean ran a hand through his hair. “Listen... why don’t I come in and make you dinner? And you can tell me all about it... alright? Sound good?”

It didn’t take him too long to come to a decision. “Yeah, come in.”

Jean easily got settled once inside, and he looked in his kitchen for something to cook. “You don’t cook for yourself often, do you?”

“Not really,” Marco sighed. “I’m more of a grab-and-go kind of guy.”

“But you look good for a fast-food diet,” Jean teased and then found something easy in his cabinets that he could make. “Sounds like you’re in need of a home cooked meal.”

“That’s not really going to fix my life’s problems,” he grumbled and stayed on his futon. He kept occasionally looking at his computer, losing himself in thought.

Jean had tried to get his attention frequently, but he could see that sometimes he just looked too far gone. So he just stayed quiet and cooked for about an hour before dinner was served. It was something simple, and he had to coax Marco into eating it. He could see that he really was upset about losing his job, and he wondered what happened if it was this important to him.

“So uh... where did you work?” Jean tried to start up small talk while they were face-to-face.

It took Marco a minute to answer him. “I was a columnist for an online tabloid. Think... TMZ meets Cosmopolitan, and it’s mostly geared towards teenaged girls.”

“That sounds like a terrible job to have,” he frowned. “Why were you even involved with that?”

“I was heavily involved in media writing in college, and when I was on the job market I’d applied to work in several magazines and catalogs. Just to get my foot in the door, y’know? And then this place found me, and its editor was the only one out of all these places that would hire me. And I wrote for them for about three years. So I just stuck with it and stayed there.”

Jean raised a brow. “You seem too miserable about losing a job at one of the worst venom piles in celebrity gossip,” he said. “I’d be leaping for joy, if I were you.”

“I thought I would be too, if you want me to be honest here,” he chuckled. “But there was something that my boss said yesterday that really got to me.”

“And what’s that?”

He sighed softly. “Ever since I was in high school, I’ve always wanted to write novels. I wanted to tell stories and make my name well known in libraries. I wanted to create worlds for people to escape in, and fantasies that will keep kids dreaming big and developing their own ideas. No one ever published any of my ideas, so that’s why I stuck to trying to find a media writing job. There recently was an article that I was forced to write, talking poorly about the young adult celebrities versing the younger generation. And I’d instead tried writing a positive article that would hopefully uplift the girls that would read it. And my boss was furious with me for it.”

“For some reason, he thought that giving young girls thoughts and ideas about bettering themselves and gearing towards a brighter future was something unspeakable,” he said dryly. “I told him I hated that I was supposed to lie to them and tell them that the world is going downhill for them because all they’re focused on is fashion and vulgar dancing. At least, that was what the editors said they were focused on. And he’d told me I was meant to write garbage. Everything that I will ever make is garbage, and everything I have tried doing in the past is garbage. That is why I stuck to such a terrible business. And now that I got fired, I have nothing. Not a single positive outlet is left for me, and my reputation is stained just for being affiliated with the tabloid.”

“I wish that I could prove to him that I’m wrong, but I know that everything he’s said is true. I belong at the bottom of the barrel, because that’s all that I’m ever good at writing about. My articles have gotten a lot of hits. I’ve received different kinds of mail from fans and executives. All that anyone has ever loved of what I’ve created was garbage.”

Jean saw the tears running down Marco’s face while he spoke, and he reached out his hands. “Hey, stop crying all over your food. It’s gonna get salty,” he teased.

The brunette wiped his eyes and looked across the table at him. “So yeah. That’s probably why I’m not really excited about being fired.”

“You have no reason to be upset over this,” Jean insisted. “Everything that your boss said to you... all of that is bullshit. Okay? You got all those reviews because there are people that have read your articles and were inspired. Despite the fact that... maybe some of the content that you were told to write was garbage. But that doesn’t mean that it reflects your skills. I’m sure you are a fantastic writer. Maybe your works weren’t published yet because you needed to dip your feet in the waters a little bit. Think about it. Working for scum like that gives you better insight on what ideas are being forced down kids’ throats, right? And you can show them that there is something much better that they should draw their attention towards.”

Marco sniffled as he shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s true.”

“See? Of course it is,” he smiled. “I can tell that you probably hated working for them. And hey, if you still want a stable job, you could always try and work for another online magazine. Or even a newspaper. I’m sure you’re more than qualified. You said you had other media writing experience.”

“Yeah, in college,” he sighed. “Those are hardly good examples.”

“Hey, stop beating yourself up,” Jean frowned. “If this is your idea of a sick prank, then I’m not falling for it. I will not rest until I get you to smile.”

“You’re gonna be mighty tired then.”

“Very funny,” he mocked and got up after he finished eating. He moved closer to Marco. “C’mon, dry those eyes.” He even helped him a little with a couple tissues. “Crying over this scum is not going to make you feel any better. They lost the light that they needed to guide them through the dark. Just look to the future. Make a difference, now that you’re out of that place. Give the world something that will get them to dream and be inspired. That’s what you want most, right?”

Marco nodded slowly. “It is.”

“Then, crying is not going to make that happen. You have to start with taking your first step,” he insisted happily. “Now, drink some water before you start getting sick. You are already looking queasy.”

He scoffed as he got up and did as he was told. “Like I said before, I only had a couple shots.”

“And like you also said, you really can’t hold your own,” Jean laughed. “Sit down and relax.”

After Marco went back on his futon, he let Jean have a seat as well. “I’ve never really asked you this, but what is it that you’re really doing with all these instruments? What is your job?”

“I’m an instructor,” Jean said. “Well, I was involved in a garage band and played at weddings with my brother. But after the band broke up and he started his family, I decided to make a good living out of my talent. I teach kids how to play the guitar, bass, and drums. Well, first my buddy Connie had to teach me how to play the drums, but after that I was all set.”

That got a little chuckle out of Marco. “I didn’t realize.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you finally get to know someone. I can’t believe it took us this long to actually start talking to each other. How long has it been...? Three months?”

“Two and a half.”

“Close enough, right?” Jean grinned. After Marco was hydrated, he didn’t leave until he’d cleaned himself up and decently got ready for bed. “You think you’re gonna be okay by yourself? I’ll come back later, if you want.”

“I’m just having an off day. I’m not dying,” Marco laughed and set the futon down to a bed. He turned to face Jean afterwards. “I... thanks. Thank you for listening to me. And helping me tonight.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for. No need to thank me,” he insisted. “Well... we are friends now, right?”

“I’d like to think so,” he smiled. He showed him to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Jean nodded. “Good night.”

“Night...” He let him go, and even after he was alone he felt a lot better. Jean was right; and with his newfound positivity, he could try and get back on the job market. Surely there would be other online magazines that were begging to have him on their staff. He just had to keep that mindset. It wasn’t that hard to, now that he was starting to feel more like himself. Maybe there will be much less stress in his life. Those hounds are finally off of his back, and he could now think creatively in peace.

He slowly realized that getting fired was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him.

\--

 _Marco was expecting another crazy prank_ the next day, but he was actually shocked that nothing happened. Well, Jean did leave something at his door, but it was nothing over the top. On his doormat, there was a little sticky note attached to it. When he picked it up, he saw that it was written in Jean’s handwriting:

 

_Good luck today! You can do it!_

_Go get ‘em, and show them what you’re made of!_

_\- Jean._

 

He blushed as he read it, and he glanced over at the other apartment. It was an unexpected surprised, and despite his confusion, he enjoyed the kind gesture. He assumed that maybe this was placed here in light of the night before, hopefully to keep him from having rough starts to the day.

But the very next day, there was another note waiting for him:

 

_If you didn’t get a job today,_

_it’s because people are getting ready_

_for your fierce potential._

_Keep trying!_

_\- Jean_

 

To make it even stranger, there was even a newspaper underneath the sticky note. He’d checked the paper for stains, torn out articles, and globbed up pages. Instead, there were giant red circles over different sections of the Wanted ads. Well, he was now one step closer to narrowing down a few jobs.

Over the next week or so, he noticed a pattern. One day there would be just a sticky note waiting for him, and then the next there would either be another fresh newspaper or a thermos of coffee. Jean was doing all these kind good deeds, and Marco wasn’t sure exactly why. But he knew that he was going to get to the bottom of this.

At the end of another day, he had bought another pie from the grocery store, just like the one he’d given to Jean the first time that he’d ever pulled a prank on him. He stood outside of his door, feeling the same excitement that he’d felt when he usually started up a competition bubbling up, but at the same time... it didn’t feel as competitive either. It felt more like an impulse to do this. Like he was expected to start something up after a few days of this new routine.

Nonetheless, he knocked on the door. He waited very patiently.

“Who is it?” Jean called.

“Special delivery,” he teased. He was well aware that Jean would recognize who really was out there, and he was waiting for him to answer the door regardless.

When Jean answered, he quickly threw the pie right in his face. He didn’t even have to hesitate, and he made sure that the custard would get all over.

Marco waited with a wide grin on his face. He watched Jean wipe it away from his eyes and look up.

“Well, well, well…” he sighed. “You just couldn’t resist the oldest trick in the book, huh?”

He crossed his arms. “Well, you were doing something completely different and out of the ordinary the past few days. I had to assume that this was part of another evil plot,” he smiled.

Jean chuckled. “I’m glad to see that you’re doing better, at least. But that wasn’t a prank I was pulling.”

“What are you talking about?” he gasped. “The notes, the newspapers, the coffee... that’s not normal, Mr. Kirschtein. If you don’t call it a prank, then what _do_ you call it?”

“I’d like to think that I was trying to be flirtatious, Mr. Bodt.” His teasingly charming tone was enough to make Marco blush regardless.

“It was... really below the bar.” He tried to pull off what Jean had done the last time something like this had come up.

“If it’s so below the bar, then why are you blushing?” he teased.

“Oh, shut up,” he laughed. “It’s not working, so stop with the act.”

“What act?” Jean smiled. “I think after all of this time feuding and pillaging throughout each other’s apartment doors, I’ve grown quite an attraction to you, Mr. Bodt.”

“Stop with the Mr. Bodt crap, it’s embarrassing,” Marco giggled. He had to admit to himself that he’d felt the same way, but this had to be too good to be true. “But I’m still not buying it.”

“Oh, really?” he pressed.

“Yep.” He crossed his arms.

It was then that Marco realized Jean had his arms behind his back the whole time. He then saw what exactly what he was hiding, and his eyes widened at seeing he had a custard pie on standby as well.

“I was hoping that you’d say that.” Jean grinned and the shoved it right in Marco’s face.

Some of it managed to get in Marco’s mouth, and he grimaced as he tried wiping it off. “Hey!” He saw Jean hurry inside and threw what was left of his pie at him. It fell right to the floor as he chased him. “Get back here, you speed demon!”

“Try and catch me!” He hurried to his fridge and took out more pies. “I have ammo!”

“What the hell?” Marco laughed and hurried to grab a few from the pile. During that pause, Jean took the time to throw another one at him. While the brunette tried to duck, some of it got in his hair. “Gross!”

Jean laughed and ran for cover when Marco made his next move. Custard was getting everywhere in the kitchen, and neither of them cared for the time being.

“Eat this!” Marco grinned and kept aiming and throwing his pies. He easily got two shots, but Jean hit him several more times to keep it even. Even after they’d used up all of them, they used the custard remains that were all over the furniture as their ammo. They kept it up until they both fell to the floor from laughing so hard at themselves.

“I’d like to call this an unexpected surprise,” Jean laughed and looked at him breathlessly.

Marco nodded and panted, lying on his back on the hardwood floor. “That was an awesome way to end a feud.”

He blinked and turned to face him. “The end?”

“Yeah,” he nodded and smiled. “We’re not constantly fighting with each other anymore. And we know a lot more about each other to just keep this as a feud between disgruntled neighbors. Don’t you think?”

Jean listened and shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

They both smiled at each other, and Marco held out his hand. “Truce?”

For a moment, Jean just stared at his hand. Then he’d reached his own out. Instead of shaking it, he put a handful of custard right over Marco’s nose.

“Hey!” he frowned.

He laughed harder. “Last one, last one,” he insisted and grinned, finally shaking his hand. “Truce.”

They looked at each other too long to notice that they were both lingering during their handshake. They moved a bit closer to each other while they smiled, quietly wiping pie off of their faces.

After they’d caught their breaths, they both started to clean up the kitchen. Thankfully it wasn’t too horrible to clean off the custard, but they made it fun throughout the time being. And after they’d washed their faces, Marco stayed to listen to Jean play his guitar. He showed him his acoustic, and he’d found that he liked listening to this particular instrument. The electric guitar was noisy and frequently broke his concentration. But this was very relaxing to him, and he wanted to hear more of it.

“Why didn’t you play this one more often?” he smiled and moved closer on Jean’s couch.

Jean shrugged. “I guess I was just too focused on pissing you off,” he chuckled.

They both laughed and Jean continued to play. Marco listened to him happily. The music created a special spark in the back of his mind. Almost like it was a form of inspiration, and his mind was finally put at ease. It was flooding with spectacular ideas, and he wasn’t sure which one he should focus on first.

He barely heard Jean’s playing slow down as they leaned closer to each other. But he did see him move the guitar off to the side before shifting to take Marco by the small of his back, letting himself lean into his touch. They gave each other warm smiles, and Jean held him gently on the couch.

“I’m glad that we’re neighbors, Jean,” he hummed softly, leaning further and kissing his cheek shyly. “Thank you for everything.”

His companion blushed and tried shrugging it off with a laugh. “That was a little out of the blue, there.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I like to still keep you on your toes.” As they both leaned further into each other, Jean easily got the idea.

“Keep doing that. I like surprises,” he whispered against Marco’s parted lips before gently connecting them.

Marco swooned as he gave into him and kept his arms around him during the kiss. He hadn’t felt this awakened since before he started working for that tabloid. He felt so liberated, being able to see with new eyes and be inspired with something as seemingly small as a kiss.

And he wanted more of that. He was craving for knowledge, warmth, attention, and excitement. And he knew that he was going to get everything he needed and more, feeling their embrace become needier and hungrier.

He felt himself lie down on his back, and Jean did all the work for him. His hums vibrated against their lips, and his fingers held onto his blonde hair for leverage. Even after Jean started pulling their shirts off, there was no signs of hesitation. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to check in and make sure nothing was bring forced.

“Marco...” He panted and kissed his forehead, their breaths heavy from waves of pleasure. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Hey, don’t doubt me,” Marco teased with a smile.

Despite the kind nature, Jean stayed persistent. “I’m serious...”

“I know, you big baby,” he chuckled and leaned up to kiss him again. “Well, I’m more than sure. Okay? Don’t worry.”

With a nod, Jean took him over to his bed. He didn’t waste any time in mapping out each other’s bodies, allowing them both to get a better feel for each other. As it progressed, Marco found that the hotter and heavier he got, the better inspiration he felt. These new emotions he was experiencing opened new eyes for him, and he wanted to see more of this carefree world.

Jean squeezed his hand when Marco had begged for something to hold onto, and their breaths were getting hotter while their chests felt heavier. Marco loved every feeling and every touch, even as he was stretched beyond his own limits. He was ready for anything that was going to be thrown at him—ready for surprises.

As Jean still held his hands after making sure they were both protected, he left kisses along his neck and whispered affection against his skin. And after everything started getting hotter and burning in the most wonderful way, Marco was perfectly fine with this being the biggest, most unexpected, and most _beautiful_ of any surprises that ever came his way.

It was chaotic, hot, and wild. He felt like his senses were being cleared, and he was reaching up higher than ever before. He could see everything from this new view, and he was practically singing from the joy that he felt. As he was floating, he closed his eyes and began reaching. He reached for the skies and beyond the stars, hoping to take them back with him.

Even when it wasn’t enough, he begged. Higher, _higher,_ and _higher!_ He was sure that he could see galaxies behind his eyes, reaching out with welcoming arms as the fire that ignited burned throughout his body. He knew Jean felt it too, and Marco helped him try and reach up with the rhythm guiding them both.

Just a little closer....

Suddenly there was a flash of white. Marco had reached beyond the stars and gasped for air desperately. And even after feeling like he had seen everything, Jean had kept going and _going,_ taking him _deeper_ through the night skies and guiding him throughout his journey home.

Marco begged for Jean to be with him as they were falling fast. He held onto him tight as they coaxed each other through. Slow and careful, and perfectly tame. Their kisses cooled them down, and as they both shook they comforted each other with their own embraces and gentle coaxing.

He still felt like more of the world was open to him now. He felt like he’d seen everything after being at the bottom of the barrel when it came to publishing. And now, knowing that there were still things that he had yet to discover now shown to him in the most wonderful way, he knew what he’d been missing. _Excitement._ How could he inspire others without feeling this excited and passionate? Now that he knew how to harness it, that was exactly what he’d needed.

Jean gave him tender kisses as they relaxed, and even once they’d regained their sentience Marco stayed plastered to the bed in Jean’s arms. He slowly drifted off to sleep, knowing that there were going to be more surprises and ideas waiting for him tomorrow morning.

\--

 _They began seeing each other a_ lot more after that night. And to make things even better, Marco had been right all along. After their night together, he was able to get his writing inspiration back. He also got a job writing book reviews in the local paper. Marco started working on what he believed was going to be his first of many great books. It was full of everything he loved and wanted to show the world. There was adventure, suspense, and fantasy galore. Jean had even enjoyed reading it alongside him, in between lots of kisses and sex, of course.

Their pranks were soon nothing more than fun memories... most of the time. And even after they’d decided to move in together in a larger apartment, they still kept that same excitement they had from when they first met with fun little jabs at each other. And after over half a year of hard work and proof-reading, he was able to confidently send it to publishers.

Instead of feeling sullen when he’d get a rejection letter, Jean helped him through each level of grief by looking over the entire book together and seeing what needed to be improved. If Jean felt like it was a foul call, he just told him to send it to the next publisher and hope for good results.

And eventually, that one day had arrived. Marco downright burst to tears when reading that his work was finally going to be published and distributed. The happy couple was beyond excited as they waited for the first copies, and celebrations in their apartment were the best kind.

After waiting several weeks, Marco finally received the package in the mail. “Jean!” He hurried back in the apartment. “Jean, it came in! Look, look!”

Jean paused from playing the guitar and looked up. “Sweet! Lemme see it!”

Marco giddily rushed over and showed him the cover. “It’s so beautiful!”

They happily looked through it and kissed each other.

“I always knew you could do it,” Jean hummed against his lips and pulled him close, grinning as his lover giggled within his hold.

“Oh—oh, look at the dedication’s page!” He opened up the book, showing him the page he mentioned.

Jean read it aloud. “ _For the love of my life, who showed me how to always feel inspired_.” He smiled softly. “That’s very sweet, but... where’s my name, babe?”

“I thought you said you wanted to stay surprised.” He winked as he grinned.

“Why, you...” He grinned and picked him up, spinning him around and careful not to drop him in the process while they laughed. He kissed him again. “I love you.”

Marco’s eyes sparked with delight, and he nuzzled his nose. “I love you too.”

While he was still in his arms, Marco reach over to the counter and grabbed something within his reach. He’d definitely startled Jean after hitting him with a classic custard pie.

“That’s for replacing my shampoo with hand soap and red dye!” he pouted. “It took me four days to get it all out!”

Jean laughed aloud and still kept the pie all over his face as he kissed him again.

“Eww, you’re getting it all over me!” Marco cringed after pulling away.

It didn’t take them long before they were laughing together. They both loved unexpected surprises.


End file.
